


nothing left

by astratic



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Haircuts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Illness, Parenthood, Post-Canon, and thats what matters, her dad is trying, hes still messing up but hes trying so hard, i guess, tangled is about reconciliation with your DAD, wrt her mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astratic/pseuds/astratic
Summary: "Cassandra, it's my duty to take responsibility for my mistakes. Any honor I have left rests upon that duty.""Is that what I am?""What?"Her hand curls into a fist, "A mistake? One of your mistakes?"She meets his eyes for the first time, and he recognizes the same fury and anguish she hurled at him when he faced her in battle. He recoils.
Relationships: Captain of Corona's Guard & Cassandra (Disney)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	nothing left

Cassandra pulls the dagger from her belt and takes a fistful of her dark hair, still soaked from the rain, and hacks it off.

She holds up the wad of curls, examining it carefully, and her breath catches in her throat. She wants to scream and wail, but she's well used to suppressing that urge. Instead, she flings the handful of hair to the floor of the tent and takes another, cutting it off in a quick motion as tears streak her face.

It's in this state that her father finds her, pulling back the flap of the tent to reveal Cassandra, surrounded by a mess of black curls, furiously hacking at what remains of her hair.

"Cassandra! What's the matter?"

She doesn't answer, but manages to nick her finger with the blade of her knife in her surprise. She sucks in air through her teeth and holds up her hand, watching the blood drip across her palm.

Her father rushes forward, then, wrestling the knife from her other hand and tosses it away, wrapping an arm around his daughter's shoulders as she struggles.

"Cassandra, talk to me," he pleads, taking her injured hand gently.

Cassandra opens her mouth as if to reply, but all that comes forth is a broken sob. She buries her face in her father's chest, and he wraps her in his arms.

"Shh," he says.

The Captain has frequently found himself out of his depth in the course of attempting to raise a daughter, and he has only recently realized just how great an impact this ineptitude had on her.

It was easy when she was small and quiet, afraid of the unfamiliar world she found herself in. When all she wanted from him was a protector—yes, he was well suited for that.

But then she got older, and angry, and stopped following his instructions to the letter. He watched her grow wildly in intelligence and will, and he feared for her. She would grow well past what he was prepared for—what the kingdom they lived in was prepared for or would tolerate from a young woman of her station.

She was smart, too smart, and determined, and she was dissatisfied. There was nothing he could do but try to stifle her, in the hope that even if she was unhappy she could persist—wouldn't leave him behind.

And there was where the real damage was done, he has realized.

Now, his daughter trembles in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, and it is horribly unfamiliar. He doesn't know this part of her, because he forced her to hide it from him.

"Cassandra, sweetheart—"

She had spent so many years suppressing her discontentment and ire that they had eventually boiled over into a violent, catastrophic breakdown that has left her in this state—periodically, dramatically crumbling. As much as her father would have liked to continue to rely on Cassandra's friends to deal with her outbursts, he knows he needs to face it himself, and he's been forced to since they set out on the road together.

He holds her and rocks back and forth as she clings to him, her still bleeding hand clutched in his. At least it was an accident, this time.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Cassandra."

After several minutes, she's mostly regained her composure and she pushes away from him—firmly but not forcefully, so he lets her go. She pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and wraps her bleeding hand in it, pointedly avoiding her father's gaze.

"Cass—?"

"I'm fine," she says, and then her face twists. When she speaks again her voice is strangled, as if she's struggling under a great weight, "I'm—dad. I'm not fine."

"Do you want to…talk about it?"

She laughs flatly, "What is there to talk about, at this point?"

Her father raises his eyebrows and gestures around at the mess of her hair on the tent floor, "Clearly something."

Cassandra's fist clenches around the handkerchief, but she says nothing.

Her father reaches out and runs his fingers through her hair, now chopped into a jagged, formless mass. He had always liked it longer—he thought her curls were lovely—but he'd long learned that saying so only served to upset her.

"I just needed an outlet," she says tightly.

"Is that all?"

She looks at the floor.

Her father reaches for his bag and pulls out a small first aid kit and canteen. Cassandra allows him to take her injured hand and gently unwrap it.

"I know that I have never been—" he frowns, "I have not been someone you felt you could be honest with, about your feelings. As your father, that's a failing. I'd like to do better."

"Dad, it's not your fault—"

He gently rinses her cut with clean water from the canteen, "Cassandra, it's my duty to take responsibility for my mistakes. Any honor I have left rests upon that duty."

"Is that what I am?"

"What?"

Her hand curls into a fist, and the cut starts bleeding again, "A mistake? One of your mistakes?"

She meets his eyes for the first time since he entered the tent, and he recognizes the same fury and anguish she hurled at him when he faced her in battle. He recoils.

"Wh—Cassandra!" She pushes him away and scrambles toward the front of the tent, but her father manages to get an arm around her waist as she shoves past him in the small space, "Cassandra! Stop, please!"

She punches his shoulder, but it's with her right arm, which still lacks much strength.

He wrestles her back into a seated position in front of him, and takes her face in his hands, "Look at me, Cassandra."

She does. She's weeping again.

"I don't know what's gotten into your head, but you are not a mistake, do you hear me? Don't ever say that again."

"Yes, sir." She whimpers.

He lets go of her, then, and she curls in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest and hiding her face, and he thinks, 'Way to go, Captain. Order her to stop being upset. Like old times.' he wants to kick himself.

Instead, he says, "Cassandra—Cass, I mean, I'm sorry. I'm sorry…that…I have made you feel that way. I don't want to hear you talk about yourself like that, because it's not true." He extends his hand to her, and she ignores him.

"I wasn't prepared to be a father when we met. I'm sure you've figured that out. I never really thought it was in the cards, just because—" he chuckles to himself, "I never saw myself marrying, and usually that's a prerequisite to fatherhood. Where I come from, at least."

She remains silent, but he senses she is listening. That's all he can ask for, at this point.

"And then there you were: this perfect little girl whose mother—well. I should have been more honest with you once you were older, perhaps, but you seemed happy to forget, once you could." He sighs, "It wasn't an accident, and it wasn't a mistake. I have never been one to put much stock in things like fate, or—or destiny, but I do believe you came to me for a reason. I made many mistakes afterward, but you? You were the best decision I have ever made, Cassandra. You are so lovely and brilliant, and brought so much color and meaning into my life, and I have never given you as much of my time or respect as you deserved because—too much of me belonged to the kingdom and to my own prejudices. And for that I am so, so sorry. That's why…I want to be here now. I know it's too little, too late, but it's all I have to give. I will be your father, and nothing else. It's the least I can do."

His hand is still extended, and he's about to give up and withdraw it when Cassandra slowly offers her injured hand again. Her father takes it gingerly and resumes cleaning and bandaging her wound. She keeps her face hidden in the folds of her cloak as he works.

"I'm still angry," she says finally, and he stills.

"About what?"

"Everything."

Silence. He continues wrapping the bandage around her finger, securing it carefully.

"I don't know what to do with my anger. I'm angry at you, but you don't deserve it. All I can think of is to turn it on myself. I don't want to hurt anyone else."

"I'd prefer you hurt me, rather than yourself."

She shrugs.

He is finished bandaging her hand, and releases it.

"If you still want to leave, you may. Just don't go too far in the rain, please."

"Dad."

"Yes, Cassandra?"

Instead of answering, she hugs him, burying her face in the thick wool of his tunic. He puts his arms around her as well, rubbing gentle circles between her shoulder blades, the way he used to often when she was small.

"Will you fix my hair, please?" Her voice is muffled in his shirt, still thick from tears, "I haven't looked in a mirror yet, but I know it looks really bad."

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually a sequel to a season 3 fix it fic i have not written yet, but the good news is that it's basically canon compliant anyway, so you can ignore that information if you want. just keep an eye out if you like this i guess, because hopefully there will be more. i finished this show with an overwhelming sense of disappointment and furious love for cassandra, and have dedicated the past few months to meticulously analyzing her character and this is the conclusion i came to: she is sad.
> 
> message me at astratic on tumblr if you wanna chat, especially if its about tangled!


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